Caddie I want to see her, and don't forget about that Reilley family,
and see that everything gets to them in good shape--a good dinner and
all the bundles and plenty for the stockings. Tell Caddie I'm
waiting."

Later on, in the library, Laine sealed his last letter and put it on
the pile Moses was to mail in the morning. Perhaps he had been a
little rash this Christmas. Well, suppose he had. The boys in the
office had done well through the year and ought to be told so. By
itself a check was a pretty cold thing, and the words he had written
to each had been honestly meant. And Miss Button, his stenographer,
needed a little trip. Ten days at Atlantic City with her mother
would pull her up. She had been looking badly lately--worried about
her mother, Weeks had told him. Pity she was so homely. It was
pretty unfair the way women had to work at both ends of the line.
Weeks, too, could get his wife that fur coat he'd been wanting her to
have for three years. What an honest old duck Weeks was!--and who
would ever believe him as full of sentiment as a boy of twenty? He
had overheard him talking to Miss Dutton about the coat that morning.
Fifteen years Weeks had been his secretary, but to-night was the
first time he had ever told him in actual words of his appreciation
of his faithful service. "I wouldn't want a million if it didn't
have some love with it," Claudia had said to him, and before his
half-closed eyes she seemed to stand in front of him.

"They are her gifts," he said. "I was blind, and she has made me
see."